The gifted author of fluid yet edgy prose poems, Carr frequently treats sociopolitical issues (e.g., 100 Notes on Violence) but is here more personal and reflective. The volume opens with letters to an ex-lover's ex-lover, whom the speaker claims to want to know better. She's not chasing the past, which is "less than the light that falls toward my face. The future, however, is a red fox, running right past me." Instead of accumulated stories, she sees us each as a "perpetual vanishing," with the child's death that opens the book's second section shuddering her into the crucial, oft-skimmed present. Is confession a search for forgiveness or recognition? Actually, it seems more about attachment (you're "made something rather than remaining (alone and) nothing."
VERDICT A rich meditation on self and others; for all smart readers.
Comment Policy:
Comment should not be empty !!!